The shape of the eyebrows.
The cleft in the chin.
Even the way the dark curls formed around the forehead.
I looked at Samuel.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know Ethan was connected to Daniel.”
“But you knew the name.”
“Yes.”
“And you never asked to meet him.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Samuel’s face collapsed.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of Ethan?”
“Of what he might be looking for.”
My stomach twisted.
“What would he be looking for?”
Samuel didn’t answer.
Instead, he stood and walked into the house.
I followed him.
He went straight to the hallway closet.
He moved several boxes aside and reached behind a stack of old blankets.
Then he pulled out a small metal lockbox.
My heart pounded.
“What is that?”
“The reason your parents died.”
He placed it on the kitchen table.
The box was covered in scratches.
There was no key.
Samuel pulled a small brass key from a chain around his neck.
I had seen that key before.
My entire childhood, he had worn it beneath his shirt.
I had always assumed it opened something sentimental.
He inserted it into the lock.
Click.
The lid opened.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
Bank statements.
A cassette tape.
And one handwritten letter.
Samuel picked up the letter.
“This was sent to me three days before your parents died.”
“From Daniel?”
“Yes.”
He handed it to me.
The handwriting was uneven.
The first line made my blood run cold.
Samuel—
You think you know what I’m capable of.
You don’t.
I read the rest.
Daniel admitted that he had discovered a way to make millions by using shell companies and fake property transfers.
But he also claimed he hadn’t started the operation.
Someone else had.
Someone with power.
Someone who had used Daniel as a middleman.
